


Heart Shaped

by saltandbyrne



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Jensen, Drugs, Everyone's a fucking perv, Exhibitionism, Flirting, M/M, No Lube, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Rimming, Rosebud - Freeform, Smoking, Top Jared, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex, Wall Sex, fuckpig verse, mentions of Daddy kink and watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People in New York wear so much fucking black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Shaped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts), [Exaggerated_Specificity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaggerated_Specificity/gifts), [homo_pink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homo_pink/gifts).



> Ages unspecified, but Jensen is roughly 16.
> 
> This takes place after Slutpunk Blues but before Stay Down.

Jensen breathes in a long drag of Brooklyn fall air and the last of his cigarette. 

 

Saint Vitus is a fairly big club for them to headline and it’s still packed to the gills with black decked tough girls and their pretty boy boyfriends.  A line of eager-faced bodies snake down the block, biting at midnight lacquer nails and touching up makeup that St. Siouxsie herself would say is too much.  These kids look like they mainline liquid eyeliner.  He smiles and grinds down his cigarette butt with the worn-in sole of his pink Converse.

 

People in New York wear so much fucking black.

 

Jensen pops up the collar of his bleached-out denim vest and absently flicks a finger over his nipples until they show through his blowjob pink tank top.  “I ❤CAMELTOE” stretches across his chest, something he’d borrowed from Gen and that she’d immediately insisted she didn’t want back.

 

“C’mon, band-aid.”

 

Gen slings her tiny arm around his waist and tugs him to the door. 

 

They could have come early for sound check and whatever free beer the owner threw at them but Gen had wanted pierogi.

 

“We’re in fucking Greenpoint, for fuck’s sake.  Not all of us can live on blow and underage pussy alone.”

 

Jensen rarely gets the chance to be the taller one anymore so he’d hung back with her.  They’d spent a few good hours trading war stories, drinking Zywiec and eating doughy little balls of fried heaven. 

 

Between Jared’s 3 PM morning wood and his dinner his belly’s nice and full.

 

The guy at the door flips through his clipboard while Jensen basks in the envious looks of all the little fuckpuppies on line.  Kohl eyes track him as he bends down pin-up pink and pretty to tug up his socks, the knee-high heart-printed ones he’d stolen from a Walmart in Pensacola. 

 

He’s been hiding them from Jared for weeks.

 

He stands back up and makes sure his shorts ride low enough to show off his heartbreaker hipbones.  He’s got a Jared shaped mark five-fingered into one of them.  There’s people on that line who would pay him blood money just to lick the trace of Jared off his skin.  He presses over his bruise like a secondhand kiss before they go inside.

 

Heat hits him when the doors open.  A wave of teeming bodies washes away the autumn chill in the air and wraps around him like a glove.  His skin warms with the familiar current as he and Gen jostle past side-eyed looks from glitteredged queers and brass knuckled fag hags.

 

They catch the last song from some all-girl band he’s never heard of, Slutdge.  It’s a little sludgy for Jensen’s taste but he knows Jason’ll love it.  He’ll probably end the night with at least one of those girls sitting on his face while they listen to Dopesmoker for the eight millionth time.

 

Gen seems to know half the people in here.  She waves and kisses and smiles her way to the bar, dimpling up the little studs in her cheeks.   The lights dim out on the stage and the crowd cheers before heading for refills.  He lets the wave of people push him back to the bar. 

 

Gen orders beers for them and smiles sweetly at the pint-sized blonde bartender who comps them.  There’s a 93% chance she’ll end up in a Gen and Adrianne sandwich before the night’s done, and if Danni’s war stories are true she’ll be calling out sick for a few days to recover.

 

Jensen knows the feeling.  He sips his beer and surveys the crowd.

 

He’s spent the last few shows on the sidelines off stage, still getting his peepshow boner for Jared’s stage time but this.  This is the held breath of a hundred cock hungry boys, lips clenched and greedy eyes tear strained at the empty stage.  A dozen dogged little things hunker up at the rail, grabby hands distance from Jeff’s gravel spit and Jason’s fuck pound bass lines and the blessed spray of Jared’s sweat sheened body.  Two tough little dykes hold their own on the left, arm-in-arm and glaring murderously at anyone who gets too close.

 

Jensen drains his beer and shifts his legs together, squeezing until he can feel all the places that Jared’s left lovesore. 

 

“Big John Waters fan, kid?”

 

Jensen spins with his cut a bitch face, because no one, _no one_ , questions his undying love for the Father of Filth. 

 

“Beat it creep,” he snarls, doing his best to live up to the sneering Wanda Woodward patch on his vest.  He and Danni had made matching ones, Johnny Depp greased up as Cry-Baby for her and Traci Lord’s divine sneer for him.  Jensen had watched that movie in Danni’s basement and spent the next few weeks of his ten-year-old life doing his best hitchhiker impression, foot propped up on Danni’s mom’s suitcase and his little boy tits arched out for imaginary passersby to leer at.

 

He’s sticking his tits out again without even realizing it.

 

“Cry-Baby don’t dig squares.”

 

Some Henry Rollins looking motherfucker that makes the Daddy’s Home tattoo on his lower back fucking _itch_ smiles at him and orders a Jim Beam and “something sweet for Wanda here.”  Jensen knocks back something with cranberry juice and not nearly enough alcohol before he lets the guy buy him three more and grab his ass.  The guy looks like he could have gone to grade school with Jeff and he’s got good stories.  Jensen’s eyelashes practically bat themselves.

 

“You seen these guys before, Fuckpig?”

 

Jensen tilts his head, wearing a cute smile as he clenches his asshole around the phantom stretch of Jared’s come-greased knuckles from last night.  His cunt’s still kiss puffed and pretty, he’d been sure to check it in the bathroom of Gen’s favorite polish diner.

 

“Yeah, a few times.”

 

He shrugs, coy, little old me’d never swallow everything Jared Padalecki’s dick has to offer and let him spank me after he came dry.

 

“My friend told me the drummer’s fucking great, the girl?”

 

“Adrianne.”

 

Jensen rolls his eyes.

 

“I don’t think you’re her type.”

 

The guy puts his hands up in surrender.

 

“She’d have me running out the door with my panties in a bunch by the sound of her.”

 

He orders another round of drinks, letting the ice clink in his glass as he looks Jensen up and down.

 

“Besides, my type is a little more … you.”

 

He sighs, tugging Jensen in closer and smelling like whiskey and cigarettes.  Daddy breath.

 

Jensen sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as big hands roam over his back, tucking up under his vest and bleeding warmth through his tank top. 

 

A wave of screams turns his head.  The lights on stage go black and everyone rushes, knowing full well the next thing they’ll see will be Fuckpig on stage.

 

“Catch you later, daddy-o.”

 

Jensen kisses the guy on the cheek and disappears into the pit.

 

They open with “Gash” and suddenly Jensen’s 14 again, standing next to Danni in some mudpit field and trying not to come in his pants when Jared looks out at the crowd and smiles.  He can hear the heartbreak sighs next to him even with the chest-shaking rumble of Jason’s bass line.  Adrianne’s double bass drum kicks in and everyone freaks the fuck out, fists flying and he’s pretty sure he gets punched in the face by someone’s bare tit.  Jeff starts growling about chew toys and new boys and Jensen’s heart pounds, waiting for it, slamming himself along to each note until he hears the opening lick of Jared’s solo and he falls in love all over again.

 

It’s the same every time.

 

He’s missed this, the raw energy of a crowd around him.  He’s just another kid with a wet pussy and flying fists, even if he is the best dressed.  He screams along to every song, a little blood in his mouth making them sound so much sweeter.  Jared’s shredding his guitar like he wants to kill it and Jensen can see the outline of his fucking dick in his pants from here.

 

His socks have slipped down around his ankles by the time they close with Load It Up.  Jensen’s got sweat dripping into his eyes and half a boner straining at his shorts.  He stumbles out of the pit as they scream for an encore, his chest heaving and a slack smile on his face.  He needs to get fucked.

 

The wall feels cool against his skin as he leans on it and gets his socks back up to his knees.  They’re itching to bend something bad.  He arches up onto his tip toes and scans the room for Gen, no small feat when she’s what Adrianne fondly calls “fun size.”

 

“Thought I’d lost you.”

 

Daddy Rollins is close enough that Jensen can name his deodorant brand.  Jensen’s almost forgotten what Old Spice smells like.

 

“What’d you think?”

 

With a room full of people staring at the stage it’s heady to have one set of eyes burning into him.

 

“They were fuckin’ great.”

 

“Told you.”

 

Jensen licks his lips, feeling every inch of skin this guy’s tracing over with his eyes.

 

“Spent most of the show watchin’ you, though.”

 

His hand is on Jensen’s hip faster than he can swallow and fight the buckle in his knees. 

 

“My place is right around the block.”

 

Some scabbed part of Jensen’s soul itches up for his old gangbang glory days, when this Daddy dick stepping into his space would just be an appetizer.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

A thumb on his lip, slut kryptonite if ever there was and Jensen sways a little.

 

“Yeah, sweetheart.  If you’re real good I’ll let you see Daddy’s-”

 

Jensen feels the collective intake of breath around him before he even sees the guy’s eyes widen.

 

Jared’s hands close over his hips and tug back, thumbs strumming over his hipbones.  Jensen stumbles a little on his feet, fawn awkward suddenly when Jared’s dick says hello to the small of his back. 

 

“Hey, I was talking to him.”

 

Daddy-down-the-block has the good sense to look a little scared but he’s also barrel chested and clenching his fists.  Jensen’s definitely hard now.

 

“No, you weren’t.”

 

The backs of Jared’s knuckles scrape over his boytrash tramp stamp as he curls a hand into the waistband of Jensen’s shorts.  He yanks Jensen to walk backwards, skipping a little on his heels as he blows a kiss to the slack-jawed guy.  It’s quick and mean but so is life.  Jensen can’t help himself.

 

Jensen bumps into a sweating line of furious fanboys as Jared tugs him to the bathroom like a recalcitrant child getting ear-dragged to the principal’s office.  There’s a line snaking down the hallway that Jared marches right past, leaving a wake of Sarah Bernhardt gasps and theatre boy swoons. 

 

The bathroom’s got dim lighting but Jensen can still see the wide-eyed looks they get as Jared stalks him over to the back wall.  Two guys inadvertently cross streams as they turn to stare.

 

The tiled wall hits his face as Jared pushes him against him, hard enough to make him huff and get his asshole all clenchy fist.  Jared never treats him like he’s gonna break.

 

“Think you’re fuckin’ cute, huh?”

 

Jared’s chest presses into him, covering Wanda’s approving sneer and swallowing him up from the prying eyes gathering around them.

 

Jared knows how to draw a crowd.

 

“Maybe,” Jensen moans, lip curling up a little where it’s smashed into the wall.  There’s a guy taking a piss two feet away from him and Jensen’s so fucking hard he’s getting dizzy.

 

“Wavin’ that pussy around like a bitch in heat.”

 

Jared’s tongue does illegal things to Jensen’s ear as his hands tug at Jensen’s fly like he’s gonna rip the zipper straight open.  Again.

 

“And those fucking.  Socks.”

 

Jensen’s shorts rugburn past his hips as Jared pushes them down, snapping Jensen’s dick up to bite some zipper on the way to hitting his belly.  He pushes his ass out, looking for Jared’s dick as much a reflex as the spit welling up in his mouth at this point. 

 

He meets empty air until Jared’s hands dig in, fingers curling to pry his ass open, Jared’s knees hitting the filthy floor as Jensen bites out a tight “Fuck.”

 

Jensen’s face flushes as Jared spreads him, thumbs pressing in to show his pink.  A fat line of precome drips to the floor and Jensen’s knees aren’t gonna last long.  He fidgets in Jared’s hands, trying to brace his weight on his forearms.

 

“Not gettin’ shy on me now?”

 

Jared smacks him on the ass loud enough to earn a yelp while Jensen’s asshole betrays him, winking pretty when Jared spits loud and messy straight into it.  He can hear the hush of everyone thronged around them.  His rim’s still fat-lipped and sore from Jared’s fist last night.

 

“Not shy.”

 

Please.  Jensen basks, spreading his thighs wide and arching his back until his shorts stretch taut above his blowjob knees.

 

“Just empty.”

 

He hangs his head down, looking past the edge of his vest to catch a glimpse of the men packed in behind them.  They lick their lips like hungry dogs, palming their cocks through tented-tight jeans and jostling against each other to get the best view.

 

Jensen would fuck every last one of them just to get Jared’s cock at the end and here he is, offering up his empty boycunt with Jared Padalecki on his fucking knees while they have to watch.

 

He winks at the guy standing at the urinal next to them, his cock still in hand even though he’s long done pissing.

 

Any ounce of smarm Jensen has left in him leaves along with the tile-bounced gasp of the crowd when Jared dog-licks up his gash and growls for the taste of it.  Jared eats ass like he’s got a second tongue hidden in his mouth and it’s an embarrassingly short amount of time before Jensen’s whore-squirming for more and fucking himself back onto Jared’s face.  The four bars laddering down his taint dance dirty with Jared’s chin, metal and peach fuzz against Jared’s three-day stubble.

 

There’s a line of drool snaking down the tile where his face is pressed to it, right next to a silver paint-pen portrait of Marilyn Monroe with a snake in her pussy and a faded Suicidal Tendencies sticker.  If Jared keeps going Jensen’s gonna paint some white of his own pretty soon.

 

Gen had painted his nails before they left, matte baby boy pink with loopy, scripted letters in glitter black.  He reaches back, laying his fingers next to Jared’s mouth one-two-three-four four-three-two-one to spell out COME SLUT.  Jared growls.

 

His ribs crush into the wall as Jared staggers up and crowds behind him. 

 

“Get your fucking pussy wet, lettin’ everyone watch?”

 

He kicks Jensen’s legs apart as Jensen dimly notices that his shorts are pooled around one ankle.  Jared can steal the panties right off a girl.  Jensen looks back over his shoulder, mirroring his Wanda patch’s pornstar pout as he makes eyes at Jared’s greased chin.

 

Everything that isn’t Jared is a waste of visual space but his skin still flares up at the sea of panting mouths watching him.  He bites his lip as Jared single-hands his belt open and pushes his pants down just enough to flash the root of his cock.  _Hello, Lover._

 

“You gonna-”

 

He doesn’t get to finish before Jared makes him squeal with three fingers spit-fucked straight into him.  Lesser boys than Jensen would pass out but he just bulldogs his chin and pushes through it, swallowing down the Deliverance noises for later.  The biggest cock in Fuckpig is fingerbanging him in a bathroom full of people.  They’re getting a show.

 

“That’s my wet little cunt.”

 

Jared knuckle-kisses his insides one more time as Jensen does his best to memorize the long drawl Jared had dripped onto the _my_ part of that statement.

 

“Good thing, too.”

 

Jared kisses his fingertips when he pulls them out of Jensen’s ass. 

 

“I don’t have any lube.”

 

He spits on his dick and Jensen falls in love a little bit more.

 

He’s bracing himself for Jared’s cockhead but he gets his hands on his hips, spinning him around to face the crowd.  His shoulderblades wing into the wall as his hips slide toward Jared, his cock bouncing happy against the hem of his cameltoe shirt and it’s a good thing Gen didn’t want it back.

 

Jared’s dick is a fucking masterpiece.  There are groans and sighs that would make Jensen feel bad for the other pussyboys watching with bated breath if he weren’t constantly, endlessly hungry for it. 

 

His arms reach up for Jared’s neck, wrapping around sweaty skin peppered with Jensen’s lovebites.  Hopefully everyone can see them.

 

Jared’s hand digs into his thigh, his thumb lining up perfectly with the knot of Jensen’s faggot frilled bow tattoos.  Jensen’s wrapped his legs around someone’s waist with a lot less urging and he jumps up so quickly Jared almost stumbles.

 

“Show up lookin’ like that and you think I’m not gettin’ these legs in the air first thing?”

 

Jared holds him like he’s nothing, like he’s not a thousand-pound ball of frantic need and want and obsession that could drown both of them.  He shifts him up and holds him right where Jensen can feel the boy-breaking press of his cock, the smear of precome and spit circling around him. 

 

He looks at the throng of men behind them with slit eyes, drinking in the ones who want to be him and the ones who want to be inside him.  They’re all holding their breath and staring at him.

 

Just like Jared.

 

Jeff claims they got the name Fuckpig from the distinct sound a boy makes the first time you fuck his ass without prepping him.  Jared claims Jensen does the best one he’s ever heard.  Either Jared’s greedy for it tonight or he doesn’t want to give Jensen the satisfaction of making half the room cream their pants, but Jared slides his lips over Jensen’s and kisses him.  That fat tongue still tastes like Jensen’s boycunt but it’s the way Jared hums his name softly that shuts him up better than any gag.

 

The whole room still explodes when Jared lets him drop down onto his raw dick.

 

He might bite Jared’s lip or maybe it’s his own, or maybe he can just smell the blood in the room.  He goes limp, arms barely holding on as his shorts dangle from one bony ankle.  Jared grinds into him, pushing him against the wall and smiling every time Jensen slurs his name, zero to cock drunk with three thrusts of Jared’s hips. 

 

Jared’s got a wet dick because everything about him is fucking perfect but even that’s not enough to keep the first few pull backs from aching something good.  He’s gotta be showing the lucky asshole standing next to him at least a few inches of rawdog pink.

 

“Fuckin’ turn this ass out whenever I want,” Jared growls, his lips on Jensen’s neck but it goes straight to his dick.  Jared can read him by now, nodding a little and tucking one of Jensen’s legs up onto his chest to fold him in half.  Jensen can barely hold onto Jared’s neck, fingertips slipping as Jared fucks up into him.  It’s awkward and Jensen could swear he feels Jared’s dick trying to French kiss his bellybutton from the inside. 

 

His socks look fucking great.

 

“Show everyone what a fuckin’ greedy cunt you are.”

 

There’s this angle that only exists between Jared’s cock and Jensen’s legs, some kind of math they don’t teach in school.  Jared leans into it, hips grinding to pluck all of Jensen’s strings and make him shake apart inch by inch.  There’s nothing he’d rather look at than Jared’s sweat grinned face but these motherfuckers had better be appreciating the back view.  Jared’s fucking him so fast Jensen’s not sure he’s breathing right, just fish gasping and moaning like he’s getting paid every time Jared’s dick hits him sweet. 

 

“Come on my cock like a good little whore?”

 

Jensen aims for words and settles for a furious nod, rolling his head back to hit the wall.  His fingers slide down to Jared’s bull muscled shoulders, comeslut nails scraping over sweaty skin.  He zeroes in on the flash of Jared’s teeth biting into his lip like he’s holding himself back and that’s it, that’s all he needs, Jared’s dick inside him while everyone else gets shut out.  Jared turns heads everywhere he goes and right now he’s staring at Jensen’s handsfree dick like it can open the pearly gates themselves. 

 

Jensen creams himself so hard he whites out the red heart on his shirt.   

 

Jared sounds a little different when he actually gets punched but only Jensen knows that.  The rest of the crowd reels when Jared risks dropping him (he’d never) and smacks his hand against the wall hard enough to rain down some plaster dust.  Jared buries himself deep, gutpunch growling while Jensen clutches up around him. 

 

“Take it, fuckin’ take it.”

 

Jensen wills whatever control he has left over his fucked out cunt and squeezes hard enough to steal Jared’s milk money. 

 

Past the tiny hearts on his socks and his noseblood knees and babygirl sneakers he finds Daddy Dick from the bar.  He’s scowling like he can’t decide whether he wants to fuck something or murder it first.  It’s the last time Jensen looks at him.

 

“Fill me up, Daddy.”

 

Jared spits his name out like his teeth don’t want to part with it.  In his dreams Jensen can always feel Jared flooding him, dream load from a dream dick just for him.  He’ll settle for the taut cords standing out on Jared’s neck and the pool of sweat singing Jensen’s name at the hollow of his throat.

 

Some shameless whore who for once isn’t Jensen sighs a high-pitched _Fuck_ as Jared shifts his hips and a string-tease of come hits the floor.  There’s more when Jared finally pulls out and leaves Jensen empty-sore and peppermint swirled.  Jared sets Jensen on half-numb feet, his chest heaving like he just stepped off stage.  Jensen can taste the murmur around them, wet mouths and hard dicks, held breath and sweaty palms. 

 

Jensen’s been on his dick a thousand times by now and he still gets starstruck.

 

Half of Jared’s hair is fucked out of his post-show topknot.  It sweat-sticks to Jensen’s face as Jared leans down, kissing him spit-mouthed and too tender to be up to any good.

 

“Let ‘em see what my cock does to you.”

 

Jared spins him so fast Jensen trips over his shorts, not that he’s really standing on his own power right now.  Big hands palm him open, slipping sweaty against the boysmooth skin of his ass.  Jensen sags against Jared’s chest, pressing his cheek to the sweatdamp of his shirt just to smell him before anyone else can.  He doesn’t need to hear the wave of come hungry moans to know he’s leaking raw.

 

“Uh-uh, all the way.”

 

Jensen looks up, breathing through his mouth, the kind of high that only Jared and a room full of men who want to do him violence can get him.

 

“Show ‘em how I pop that cherry, Jen.”

 

Jensen slut strains until he’s got an outie and some neck-buttoned gang banger crosses himself.  There’s at least three different languages praying to the mother of god and Jensen wants to thank each and every one of them that he’s as pretty on the inside as he is from the back.

 

Every girl loves roses.

 

He can only keep it up for a few seconds on his own.  He collapses into Jared, sighing from the strain and trusting Jared won’t let him fall into the pool of come on the floor unless he wants him to.  His shorts are still puddled at one ankle and slowly seeping up the remains of Jared’s affection. 

 

Someone slow-claps until his neighbor yells “Shut the fuck up” and everyone laughs a little.  It cuts the tension and the room lets out a collective breath.  Jared’s soft chuckle bleeds into his chest as Jensen kitten-curls after it, bare-assed and back turned and suddenly, mortifyingly snuggly.

 

He tries not to mewl as Jared’s arms unwrap themselves from around him.  Jared tucks his sticky dick away with a grimace and leans down just enough to slowly tug up Jensen’s filthy shorts.  He bends to one knee as he buttons them, pressing a hot kiss to the shaky SLUT tattooed up on Jensen’s inner thigh.

 

“You are one bad bitch.”

 

Jared’s thumb traces over the edge of his socks in a way that promises Jensen isn’t ending the night without getting fucked again.  He grins, wicked and energized like he always is when he has an audience.

 

“They’re gonna love this.”

 

Jared winks at him and before Jensen’s brain can really catch up Jared’s heaving him over his shoulder.  Jensen falls into it, a natural war bride.  He kicks his feet a little as they clear through the slack-jawed crowd.  A clutch of fanboys fall to their broken-hearted knees when Jared walks past them.  One of them has honest-to-God tears in his eyes.

 

Jared stops and smiles down at the wet-eyed one.

 

“Left a little somethin’ on the floor for you boys.”

 

Jensen gives them a little wave as Jared carries him out.

 

~

 

“He’s gonna get spoiled,” is the first thing Jeff has to say when they finally make it to the bus.  Jensen’s still happily ass-up over Jared’s shoulder.

 

“Oh I think it’s too late for that.”

 

Jason’s got one arm looped over the lead singer of Slutdge and another snaked into the beltloop of some skinny-jeaned nerdcore groupie boy.

 

“The fuck did you do in there, anyway?”

 

The singer chick nudges her boy with the toe of her boot until he lights up a cigarette and hands it to her.

 

“I tried to get in to have a look but there was this like wall of shaking boys, I swear to God they were speaking in tongues.”

 

“He has that effect on people,” Jensen purrs from his perch, digging his toe into Jared’s lower back.

 

“That was all you, sugartits.”

 

He gives Jensen a wall-bouncing slap on the ass before dropping him onto his feet.

 

“You want a smoke?” The singer offers, kicking her boy again while Jason looks entirely too pleased with himself.

 

“Sure.”

 

He purses his lips while the guy lights another Camel up.  Jensen clasps his hands behind his back and watches, delighted, as the guy shakes a little and delicately places the filter between Jensen’s lips.  Jensen’s not the only one getting thoroughly fucked in Brooklyn tonight.

 

“Well I hope it was worth it.  Anyone who didn’t get to see your little peepshow wanted to fuckin’ kill you when they couldn’t get in to take a piss.”

 

Jeff snorts and stubs his smoke out under his heel.  He reaches back without looking and hooks his hand into the trim waistband of a boy with a mess of black curls and a plumwine mouth.  He’s so upright and preppy it’s wonderfully painful to watch him doe walk forward, his cheeks blushing scarlet over a blazer with an emblem and “Collegiate School Founded A.D. 1628” embroidered over his soon to be ruined tits. 

 

“That’s why you’re here, ain’t it sweet thing?”

 

Jeff tucks him under one arm and grins.  Jensen smiles at the hint of rope around his wrists as he turns into Jeff’s chest.  That explains the good posture.

 

“Glad we didn’t cramp your style too much.”

 

Jared plucks Jensen’s cigarette out of his mouth and makes it his own.

 

“Ladies room was just fine.”

 

Adrianne smirks, Jensen’s favorite look on her.  She and Jared have the same foxy eyes that always spell trouble, and Jensen follows them to the side of the bus where Gen’s making out with the bartender.  For once Gen’s the taller one.

 

“She made out with a girl once at summer camp,” Adrianne stage-whispers, earning some knowing chuckles from her bandmates and a soft, “Mmm, summer camp,” from Jeff.

 

“Her name is _Tiffani_.  With an I.”  Adrianne cracks her knuckles and sighs as Gen’s hand slides under the girl’s shirt.

 

“I love New York.”

 

“Think Jo and I are gonna head back to Ian’s loft.”  His eyebrow twitches at the word _loft_.  Rich boys with tight asses and good drugs easily make Jason’s top ten list.

 

“We all loaded up?”

 

“Chad!” Jeff bellows, making his boy flinch.

 

“Jefe!” Chad appears from behind the bus, his lips a shade too pink as he tugs his Sabres cap on backwards.  A stunning Spanish girl in a Sammy’s Roumanian tshirt and shorts that make Jensen’s look positively respectable slides out after him.

 

“We’re, uh, we’re all good.”

 

Chad nods a little too quick and Jensen narrows his eyes.  Fucker better have his own stash this time.

 

“Lena, you get everything in the van?”

 

Jo does an eyeroll of her own as Lena thumbs at her nose.

 

“Yes, m’am.”

 

Her voice could melt sugar.  Chad wraps his arm around her wasp waist, nosing into her hair.  She’s almost as tall as he is.

 

“Lena here was gonna show me around the city a little bit.”

 

“Roadie love, how sweet,” Adrianne sighs as Chad stumbles after Lena’s long legs.

 

“Nothing like a native tour guide,” Jason hums, tugging Ian in a little closer.

 

Jo leans up to Jason, frowning a little.

 

“He does know she has a dick, right?”

 

“Oh, then he’s definitely hooking up with her.”

 

Jared emphatically nods while everyone else murmurs in agreement. 

 

They set a loose schedule for hitting the road in the late morning and break out.  Jason beams while Ian orders the three of them an Uber, and Adrianne struts off like she’s already got her dick between her legs as Gen smirks and nuzzles the poor girl they’re gonna take apart back at her apartment in Queens.

 

“You boys let me know when you need to take a piss.”

 

Jeff licks his lips as blazer boy fidgets and smiles down at the ground.  It’s fun when Jensen’s not the youngest one on the bus.

 

“Momo’s gonna be jealous,” Jared sing-songs, wriggling his eyebrows and somehow looking both spectacularly dorky and infinitely fuckable.  A Daddy and a Dad.

 

“I think Momo’s halfway to a spitroast as we speak.”

 

Jensen raises an eyebrow of his own and slithers into the warm shell of Jared’s chest.

 

“You know, could break out that purple thing and -”

 

“Want you on my hand with nothing but those socks on.”

 

Jared kisses him, Daddy hands pulling Jensen’s ass up until Jensen’s on his tip toes. 

 

“Only if you let me piss in his mouth first.”

 

“Brat.”

 

Jensen grabs Jared’s hand with two of his own.  He presses his lips to each one of Jared’s knuckles before tracing the tip of his slut tongue over the CUNT tattoo that his insides have kissed so many times.  He presses one thumb into the little pig face hiding inside Jared’s wrist.

 

“Deal.”

 

“You pro-”

 

Jared slings him over his shoulder and hauls him onto the bus while Jensen lands his heartshaped fists on Jared’s back.  Jensen lets himself squeal a little this time.

 

 


End file.
